


Cuts Both Ways

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-09
Updated: 2005-09-09
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Wes PWP Ficathon by Versaphile.  S1, Post-"Eternity,"  Wes gets a whiff of Angelus and goes to far.  Vaguely non-con, but mostly just really rough sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuts Both Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Angel had always hoped that one day he would be able to ignore Angelus. That maybe he wouldn’t be quite so close to the surface. Maybe he wouldn’t hear him holler for blood, and make Angel want to gamble with everyone’s lives. That maybe, he could push him aside and actually enjoy his life. And not be reminded with every step that there was a monster under his skin just waiting to be set free.

\- - -

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Watcher. Fully vetted, fully educated, Watcher. It felt like his duty to have been in contact with Angelus. Living, working, _sleeping_ with Angel made it seem a derelict of duty not to have witnessed the monster that was Angelus. Not that he wanted the full violence rated version under his nose, but still it seemed like he should know that other side to Angel. The side that existed, soul, or no soul.

\- - -

He had wanted to wait. He wanted to be so hot that he came when Angel walked in the door. But all he could think about was last night. 

Angelus.

He felt his nipples tighten remembering Angelus’s hand connecting with his chest. That flash of power coursed through him, strong and viscous, leaving him in no doubt as to how he really wanted Angelus to touch him.

He let out a breath that had caught in his throat. Hell. Angel wouldn’t be back for another hour at least. 

Angelus.

He imagined him clamping his fingers around Wesley’s wrists. Cock thick and ready to take what he wanted. What Wesley wanted. Another moan slipped from Wesley’s lips. Angelus’s fingers would tighten, squeezing and bruising. He’d be whispering horrible, gruesome sonnets with entrails and cracked bones, but all Wesley would hear would be his voice low and seductive, breath wisping over his ear, teasing out little shudders with every puff of air. 

He didn’t even realize his hand was moving until it made contact with his groin. Thoughts clamoring for control, he let go of all of them save Angelus’s heavy hands and drew down his zipper and curled his fingers gently around his hardening cock. Then thinking better of it, he tightened his grip. Tight. 

He couldn’t stop. His hand kept stroking and his mind kept rewinding to the moment when Angelus’s hands were ruthless and hard against his chest. He had been powerless, but not weak. His blood had pumped more quickly and his muscles had been tense, ready to fight. But the thrall of his eyes and the surety of his grasp had rendered Wesley useless.

Wesley’s fist went tighter, harder, thumb flicking over the tip now at the end of every stroke. When he cried out as his come flowed over his hand, he tried not to say his name. But later when the sheen of endorphins had disappeared, he couldn’t remember whether he had or not. 

\- - -

He didn’t really think that there were that many ways left for Angelus to hurt him. Ways for him to carve out his chest and make his eyes water at the sight of people that he loved. But Angelus never missed a beat, and never ceased haunting him from every corner. 

\- - -

Angel’s body was tired and worn. The latest demon had been a nightmare. His clothing ripped, his patience shredded, Angel was ready to fall down into an abyss of Wes and sleep.

He climbed the stairs from the apartment and stopped at the door to his office to see if Wes was still up reading. The smell was different, and there were tiny soft noises floating underneath the door. His hand was on the knob when he stopped and listened closer. 

“Angelus,” a throaty voice whispered. A throaty _British_ voice. 

All movement in Angel’s body stopped. He was paralyzed. Wes. Was jerking off. To Angelus. _Angelus._ That thought in combination with the smells heavy behind the door made his stomach churn and his hope curdle. 

He didn’t interrupt Wes, just turned and went back downstairs. When Wes came down a few minutes later, Angel feigned sleep and tried not to cringe when Wesley touched his hands to Angel’s skin.

\- - -

The rest of the week, Wesley felt Angel recede into the background, his thoughts still centered on Angelus. Every turn of a page made him think of a slash on his skin, blood slipping out in tendrils of crimson. Every time he turned on the coffee pot, the acrid burning smell made him think of wax, singeing his body, dripping slow, wet, and hot in a trail of crisp, sure pleasure. Every ride on his bike, the vibrations sent flashes of his body humming with need under Angelus’s cold stare. His motor would ebb and flow and he would feel the riptide of Angelus’s fingers scraping along his body leaving a trail of over-sensitized flesh in its wake. 

After each of these events, he would sit, stand, idle about until his erection slowly burnt itself out. It was painful, but he didn’t actually mind, knowing that later his body would come harder and stronger beneath his hand in the shower, the steam of Angelus’s breath at his neck. 

\- - -

Angel watched Wes with the horrid fascination of passing a car accident, bodies strewn at odd angles and crumpled metal gnashing everywhere. 

His interest was one of disgust and pure curiosity. He loved seeing the glazed look on Wesley’s face, but when he remembered what caused it he would have to go down for a session with his punching bag, or with a wall of bricks, the physical pain helping to block out some of the mental glass ripping through his heart. 

He didn’t know how to tell Wes that he knew. He was still in shock. He wasn’t good enough for Wesley? How was it that a mass murderer could inspire the kind of pulse racing and arousal that he had seen and smelled on Wes all week? This wasn’t a passing fancy, he saw Wes’s eyes get farther and farther away, and when they had sex it wasn’t Wesley underneath him, it was someone pretending to be Wesley. Pretending to want Angel.

\- - -

Finally one night he watched as Wes zoned out on the couch, and the front of his trousers started to tent. He couldn’t take it. He grabbed him by the shirt, snarling, and slammed him against the uneven brick of the wall.

“You think I can’t smell it, Wes? You think I don’t know?” His eyes flashed gold unintentionally, but Angelus was gagging for it. Ready and oh so happy to take this boy. Take him and break him and watch Angel shrivel like dead, water-logged skin.

He felt Wesley’s heartbeat speed up beneath him, his erection press harder against his thigh. Poking at him, taunting him, telling him that he wasn’t the guy. Wasn’t the _right_ guy. 

His snarl was verging on a sneer, when he ground his hips painfully against Wesley’s, bone catching bone, and flesh taut with pressure. “You think he wouldn’t kill you? You think he wouldn’t just because I love you? Think it’s some kind of shiny, happy game, Wes?” Wes watched in delicious terror as Angel’s fangs grew, ridges formed and he scraped his teeth along Wesley’s throat before devouring Wes’s mouth, unmindful of the sharpness slashing through Wesley’s fragile mouth. He swept his tongue in deep, tasting Wes’s arousal and growling at Wes’s groan.

“You don’t know what Angelus really is, Wes. You don’t believe the things he’d do. I could be him, right now, and you wouldn’t know until your heart stopped beating.” Angel’s eyes were glittering and Wesley was sure his pulse was beating purely out of fear now. 

“Of course I know. I’m not some inexperienced prat, Angel. I know the difference. Watcher, remember? And you are _not_ Angelus.” Wesley put up his front of pompous arrogance and brains to fight off the impending fear.

“You mean, Angelus isn’t me, don’t you, _Mr. Wyndam-Pryce_? Because I can do Angelus. That’s easy, just let loose a bit, lose that control, kick back and let Angelus have a ball. But Angelus … he can’t be me, because I’m not even there. Plus, the bastard can’t stomach me when I am. So, I think you misspoke, Wes.” Angel’s tone was still cruel, still goading. “Maybe I should give you a demonstration. Make sure you know what you’re getting into. Since you want him so bad you can’t stop jerking off to him...”

Angel’s eyes were full of demon yellow, and Wesley couldn’t help getting caught in their thrall. Angel’s hand slithered down Wesley’s back and drew a line along the seam of Wes's rear, making him buck forward into Angel’s cock. “Feel that, Wes. Ready and waiting for that tight ass of yours. Angelus wouldn’t be waiting. Teasing you maybe, but not waiting. That pretty mouth of yours would be hard at work.” Wesley swallowed, the image of himself on his knees and Angel’s- Angelus’s thickness in his mouth made his own erection surge into Angel’s cool body. “Oh, I don’t think so, boy. You wouldn’t be so lucky. I think you’d be gagged and barely breathing,” Angel added on, cupping Wes with his palm and shuddering slightly at Wes’s whimper.

Angel flicked a lick over Wesley’s ear, while he teased his way through fabric to torture Wes’s nipples, pinching and flicking them with his nails until they peaked. Wesley let out a moan and arched into Angel’s hands. “Feel so good, Wes, bet you’d feel even better if Angelus was drawing blood from those nipples right about now.” He saw Wesley’s eyes glaze again. “Ah, ah, not they way you’re thinking. Not with sucking and teeth, but with sharp ragged objects, and maybe some salt to go with it. He likes it when it _hurts_ you. Couldn’t care less if you were having fun. But if he got you to like it, damn, that would be the perfect day for Angelus.” Angel may have been playing, but his face fell quickly and the anger was back. 

“You know he would kill you. He would drain you dry not just for fun, but because it would kill me,” Angel whispered hotly in Wes’s ear and shoved him back against the wall, this time face first. Wes groaned at the impact but then Angel was there behind him, smelling his neck and licking the salty sweat along his collar. “Mmm. Even I like a little taste of fear. And pain? That’s even better. But for Angelus, it’s the main course. He might not even be trying to hurt you, but he’ll want you scared before he sinks his teeth in.” Angel grazed Wesley’s neck with his fangs and they both shivered. Angel was hard, but Wes wasn’t ready yet. There was more that he needed to be taught. 

Angel’s cock fit snugly against the crack in Wes’s ass and he started grinding himself against him, gently at first. “Angelus would be in you right now, but me, I don’t like the sound of your flesh ripping or hearing that gasp of real pain. Plus, not being able to fuck you for a week or more is never good. So I like to take it slow. What do you think, acceptable compromise?” Angel was practically purring in Wes’s ear now. 

“Like that, do you, boy?” Angel grabbed him by his wrists and flung him on the floor, ripping Wes’s shirt as he went. “You won’t be needing these.” Wes’s heart was pounding and his breath was coming out in gasps. He writhed as he watched Angel’s hungry look while he stripped him and then started in on his own. “Ready for him yet, Wes? Ready for that big cock of his? Suck it,” Angel commanded, shoving his pants aside and waving his cock in front of Wesley’s face. 

Wesley was shaking, but his whole body aching and ready. So ready. His tongue lapped along Angel’s length, making sure to coat him with saliva knowing what would come next. Angel started to groan when Wes swallowed around him and jerked him away. “That’s enough. Turn over.” Angel’s voice was hollow and thin. He was having a hard time keeping himself from hurting Wes too much, and was ashamed to think that Angelus might really be winning this round. But Wes’s ass, bare and waiting, was calling, and he pressed his heavy cock against him and then shoved hard inside. Wesley gasped, a small note of pain underneath the flare of arousal Angel smelled. 

“Please, Angel. Please. No more.” Wes’s voice was pained but his erection hadn’t flagged a jot.

“You want him to rip your flesh off and eat it? That what you’ve been longing for, Wes?” Angel let his brogue slip out knowing it would remind Wes further of Angelus and snaked a hand around to grip Wes firmly. “You don’t want him to tear into your neck and suck out that hot blood until you’re struggling for consciousness and he has to knock you out because he can’t stand the begging moans coming out of your throat?” Angel’s grip was torturous on Wesley’s cock, not giving him an inch and knowing just how hard to squeeze to make pain bloom in Wesley’s eyes. 

“No, Angel, no.” Wesley’s hips jumped back to meet Angel’s.

“You still want him now, boy? Tell me you want him!” Angel’s thrusts came harder and faster.

“No, Angel,” Wesley gasped.

“No, Angel what?” Angel drove in harder still, burying himself in Wes.

“No, Angel, please. I only want you. Always you. Please.” His last syllable was a shout, the pleasure bursting out of him, thrusting through his vocal chords.

They both came shuddering and shaking against each other, the floor knocking hard into Wesley, and Angel tumbling on top of him. 

“Sorry, Wes. I’m so sorry.” Wes felt a wetness against his back where Angel was nuzzled against him, his arm still around Wes’s waist. Oh, God, what had he done? His body shuddered again from the aftermath of his orgasm as much from the guilt and revulsion of practically letting Angelus go, and... Oh, no, this was not going to be okay. “I’m not Angelus, Wes. I’m not that guy. I don’t want to be,” his voice was almost pleading.

Wes shifted and turned to face him, stroking the tears from Angel’s cheek. This wasn’t at all what he had imagined or pretended to think he wanted. Angelus wasn’t some demon to be studied, he was his lover. His lover wrapped in a soul, and who struggled to stay his lover through every torture of happiness Wes could dream up. “No. No, I’m sorry, Angel. I’m sorry I made you have to do this.” Wesley stroked Angel’s side, trying to calm the trembling still exuding from Angel.

“You’re right. I don’t know the real Angelus. I know _you_ , Angel.” Wes nuzzled in closer and kissed Angel lightly. “And that’s all I want to know.”


End file.
